Chapter 211 You Played Yourself (4)
The moment Kelly spoke, a ripple of unease passed through the crowd. Several faces tightened, brows furrowing. Was she really going to push it that far?
She was leaning hard on the weight of her years of riding experience, confident that raising the stakes would still leave her in control. Her proposal was blunt—take the match to the medium zone, the domain of the double-rail jumps.
Unlike the single rails in the low zone, the doubles were wider and far less forgiving. The first obstacle was two single rails set side by side, each about one foot seven inches high, with a gap of the same width between them. Horse and rider had to clear nearly two feet up and two feet across in one smooth motion, landing clean without touching either rail.
From there, each jump grew taller and broader. The final double stood at four feet three inches high and just as wide, a block of wood and air that could intimidate even seasoned riders. For students who had only ever trained on single rails, the thought of clearing such a wall was enough to make their stomachs knot.
Double rails were notorious in competition. They demanded more than skill—they tested nerve, timing, and the trust between horse and rider. A late tuck of the forelegs could clip the front rail; a weak extension of the hind legs could knock the back rail. For the horse, it was a feat of strength and precision. For the rider, it was a mental gauntlet.
Amelia's earlier run had already stunned the crowd. To ask a beginner to take on doubles with nothing but freshly learned technique... it was hard not to see Kelly's move as a deliberate provocation.
Kelly knew exactly what she was doing. The first time a rider faced doubles, the challenge was as much psychological as technical. She tilted her chin toward Amelia, her voice dripping with mockery. "What's the matter, Amelia? Scared?"
Her smile tilted, sharp at the edges. "If you don't want to jump, just say so. You can concede now. As for the Moonfern, I'll give you some. We're classmates, after all. Asthma is dangerous—I care about Zander's health."
The moment she spoke his name, Amelia's eyes went cold as steel. She knew better than anyone that Zander did not want his asthma—or his hemophilia—broadcasted. Outside of her family, Asher, and Dorian, no one knew. How Kelly had learned was a mystery, but the fact that she kept saying it aloud was infuriating.
Prestige High School had a way of making rumors travel fast. If this spread, it would be everywhere by the end of the day.
Amelia turned her head slightly, her eyes colder still. She was usually content to stay in the background, but today Lon had pulled her into the spotlight. If she was going to play the prodigy, she would play it all the way—and make sure Kelly regretted it.
She lifted her chin. "You talk too much."
Her next words cut through the arena like a blade. "It is rare to see someone begging to be humiliated... and after one round, still wanting more.
"You want the medium zone? Fine. Let's go."
Gasps rippled through the crowd. "She actually said Kelly was asking for humiliation?!"
This was the double-rail course, and she had agreed without hesitation.
Kelly blinked, thrown off for a heartbeat, then sneered. "Keep acting tough. We'll see who is laughing in the end."
The crowd's tension shifted into excitement. This was worth watching. Amelia had not just shut Kelly down—she had done it with style.
Lon, who had watched Amelia's flawless single-rail run, did not try to dissuade her this time. He led them to the medium zone, repeating the rules: a refusal cost two points, knocking a rail cost four, and falling from the horse meant immediate loss.
Kelly stepped forward, volunteering to ride first. She wanted Amelia to feel the pressure. But when she reached the starting line and looked ahead, something inside her faltered. She had been so focused on challenging Amelia that she had not thought it through.
Since winning a prize in March's competition, she had barely trained seriously. And doubles? She had not jumped them in three or four months.
Could she clear all five obstacles in one go? She was not sure.
She forced herself upright in the saddle, telling herself that even rusty, she could not possibly lose to a beginner. With that thought, she nodded to Lon, signaling she was ready.
The whistle blew. Kelly tightened her grip on the reins and urged her horse forward.
The first three doubles were under three feet three inches in height and width—manageable. She cleared them without trouble. But the fourth... trouble came.
The mare's hind legs did not tuck in fast enough, clipping the second rail. The knock jolted her, rattling her focus. Still, the horse kept charging.
Then she saw the last obstacle looming ahead—four feet three inches high, four feet three inches wide. The sheer size sent a jolt through her pulse. Could she really make that leap?
Her rhythm broke. She knew the rough takeoff point, but when they reached it, she hesitated. The cue came too late. The mare barreled toward the rail, then slammed to a stop, forelegs locking.
A scream tore through the air.